


Soulful Feelings

by lazy_storm_clouds



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But my girl has a lot of things going on and she needs a break, Dialogue did not seem to fit in here, Gen, I guess it's a little bit of a character study maybe?, Idk why but this has no dialogue, Sansa has a lot of feelings over a fairly short time and she's tired ok, Sansa's POV, idk - Freeform, s8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24270268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_storm_clouds/pseuds/lazy_storm_clouds
Summary: Jon had said the North was a part of him, as it was her, and he entrusted her with it. He’d given her a part of himself that wasn’t easily given because he knew she’d care for it well. Sansa would like to say she’d do the same, but at this point, she wouldn’t give the North to anyone for anything. She’d given him her trust, her heart, and her soul even if neither outright acknowledged it. Which is why it hurt so much to see him return a different man than the one that left, with a foreign army and lover in tow.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Soulful Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

This feeling was nothing. It had to be. She had been through so much and felt worse. Physical blows had been rained down on her, she’d been in the throes of grief for so long, and she’d been let down too much. This wasn’t like any of that. This called to mind the moment Lady had died. Her heart, no, her _soul_ , felt like it was being _ripped_ apart.

Jon was home, finally. It’d been far too long since she’d seen him. But he came without his crown and a foreign queen. A conqueror if the rumors she’d heard were correct. And nothing could be worse. It had only been moments since they’d appeared and she could already see the looks the Targaryen woman was shooting Jon.

Her violet eyes were possessive every time she glanced his way and had confused anger when they landed on Sansa. Clearly what she had said in the courtyard wasn’t true. Jon hadn’t spoken a word of her. Not that that was surprising. Jon kept things he truly cared about close to his chest, such as Ygritte. It took Sansa ages to get him to open up about her. It was both reassuring and wounding. Reassuring because that meant he truly cared for her. Wounding because maybe he didn’t believe in her as he had said before leaving.

_No. She couldn’t think like that._

Jon had said the North was a part of him, as it was her, and he entrusted her with it. He’d given her a part of himself that wasn’t easily given because he knew she’d care for it well. Sansa would like to say she’d do the same, but at this point, she wouldn’t give the North to anyone for anything. She’d given him her trust, her heart, and her soul even if neither outright acknowledged it. Which is why it hurt so much to see him return a different man than the one that left, with a foreign army and lover in tow.

She’d welcomed him warmly enough in the courtyard. How could she do any differently? She had truly missed him. He was a steady constant since she’d escaped Ramsay and then he wasn’t there. Arya and Bran had returned but they were so different it was hard to always speak openly with them. Bran knew too much and had no tact to speak of. Arya knew more than most but also less than others. Speaking with either of them for too long left Sansa weary and longing for the nights spent with Jon in her solar. It had become easy with him. Too easy. Perhaps that was why she avoided his gaze now.

Minutes, hours, days… However long the dragon queen was there, Sansa knew it would be too long. She’d grown tired of the falsities. Of the attempted bonding, of the food rationing beyond what she’d planned, of the secrets, of the foreign army frightening and angering her people, and of playing a character in her own home. She’d finally made it back home after all the sacrifices she and her family had made. She didn’t want to be a pretender in it. The North deserved her in truth as they had had her when Jon was away to Dragonstone. They’d had her and had respected and even loved her. Now, they didn’t know what to think of her. They saw their lady wearing a mask near constantly. She set the precedent and they’d followed. No one trusted the queen or her army. They’d been standoffish and only a tone shy of rude. She shouldn’t have been so… petty towards the queen.

She couldn’t help it, though. For a brief moment, she’d felt like that young girl again, the one who picked on her sister and dreamed of anything other than her life at the time. That had come out in her expression and her words. She’d never felt so much like the teachers she’d learned from then that moment. The only other times that had come close had been when she’d gotten the Vale’s help behind Jon’s back and when she’d conspired to finally be rid of Littlefinger. Those moments all came with a victorious warmth and a sick stomach.

Jon and she seemed to be arguing more than ever. Arya once said they argued as if they were sword fighting. One would advance and the other would deflect. One would lunge and the other would pivot away. One or both would retreat and that would be the end of the argument. They’d sling meaningless or twisted words in the hopes of finding some form of the truth.

Sansa hated arguing with Jon. She hated hurting him. But she loved arguing with him. He showed _so much._ They fought with passion and left her feeling either right with her pain or in love with the lightness of _seeing him._

She was ready for the fighting to be done. All the fighting. She wanted peace. Peace for everyone, especially the North. The South could tear itself apart as long as the North continued on in peace. She didn’t want to fight Jon over such serious things anymore. She wanted to argue over small things again, be able to teasingly ask for forgiveness. She wanted it all over.

Sansa didn’t know how the war would turn out. For their sake, she hoped it left her family alive and her people hopeful. She hoped Jon still loved her at the end because she wasn’t sure he would after this. She didn’t love what she was doing, it made her skin crawl. She hated what she had to do but it was the only true option. Jon had to be known as a Targaryen. For the realm, for him, and for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I completely ruin her character? Did I do well? Let me know in the comments and please leave a kudos! :D
> 
> Please check out my other GoT works!


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